Three miles north of Abbeyleix, the River Nore passes beneath a seven-arched bridge that locals still call Poorman’s Bridge. At first glance it looks like any other quiet rural crossing — but according to legend, it was paid for with cursed gold and the restless soul of a one-legged beggar in a red cap.

Long before the bridge was built, the Nore was crossed by a rough ford of stone and timber. Travellers could usually manage the current on foot, but during winter floods cattle, carts, and even pedestrians often needed help. Living nearby in a small cabin were Neale O’Shea and his wife Kathleen, who were often called from their beds on stormy nights to guide people safely across.

One bitter December night, Kathleen was roused by cries on the wind. Neale went out and found a stranger clinging to the rocks — pale, gaunt, and missing a leg. He hauled the man from the water and carried him home, laying him before the fire. Their guest introduced himself only as a sailor from the north, once wounded in a fight with smugglers off the French coast. Discharged from service, he had wandered Ireland ever since, surviving on the kindness of strangers.

He wore a red woollen cap beneath a broad leather hat, and the O’Sheas soon came to know him simply as the Boccough Ruadh — the Red Beggar. By day he sat on a rock beside the ford, asking alms “for the good of their souls.” By night he returned to the O’Sheas’ hearth, never paying for his keep and never spending the coins he earned. For forty years he lived this way, secretive but tolerated, until the day death came for him.

When Neale had long been buried, his son Terry O’Shea cared for the ageing beggar. On the night of the Boccough Ruadh’s death, Terry offered to fetch a priest or doctor, but the old man refused both. When Terry mentioned his hidden savings, the beggar snarled, “If I have as much money as would buy me a coffin, may my soul never rest quiet in the grave.” His only dying request was to be buried wearing his red cap.

He was laid to rest in the local churchyard, but that night Terry dreamt of the beggar tugging at his cap and pointing to it insistently. On reopening the grave, Terry found a gold coin sewn inside the lining. When the coffin was re-sealed, he confessed to his mother — and later returned to retrieve the cap entirely. Hidden within its seams were three hundred gold coins.

The following night, Terry dreamt again. The beggar appeared, walking across the river, scratching at a stone in mid-stream. When Terry checked the next morning, he found a leather purse of coins beneath that very rock.

But their joy was short-lived. That night, the O’Shea cottage shook to the sound of a thumping wooden leg. Pots clattered, the fire hissed, and a rasping voice whispered from the smoke. It seemed the Boccough Ruadh had returned — and he wanted his gold back.

Frightened beyond reason, Terry gathered the money and carried it to the priest, begging him to give it to the poor. The priest refused to touch it, so Terry left the purse on the church steps. The authorities later used the mysterious funds to build a new bridge over the Nore — the same bridge that still stands today.

The hauntings ceased. But on stormy nights, when the river swells beneath its arches, travellers say they sometimes glimpse a gaunt figure in a red cap, and hear the faint tap… tap… tap of a wooden leg fading into the mist.